


it's quiet uptown

by sqidervbck



Series: tommy-centric works [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Depressed TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, TommyInnit Deserves Better (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), dream is not evil, he started bad and then realised he was driving a child to suicide, so now hes good!!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28337064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sqidervbck/pseuds/sqidervbck
Summary: Without letting himself dwell on it any longer than he already had, Tommy stepped off the ledge.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: tommy-centric works [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122152
Comments: 20
Kudos: 1226





	it's quiet uptown

**Author's Note:**

> BIG TW FOR SUICIDE!
> 
> a lot of tommy's thoughts are "inspired" by my own experiences with suicidal thoughts and attempt, although it may not be the same for everyone. some of it is changed of course, considering tommy has experienced entirely different things and would have completely different motivations.
> 
> while im here, since its the end of the year, id like to give a big congratulations to everyone who (despite maybe not thinking they would make it this far) have survived this year. i know there was a long period of time when i thought i wouldnt survive to see 2021, but we're here now! im so proud of all of you, this is such a great accomplishment. keep the good work up, you're doing amazing.

Tommy had found himself in a downward spiral a bit too late for him to get out of it. He’d noticed the thoughts; the loneliness, the loss, the feeling of inadequacy and unexplainable feeling of just wanting to  _ give up _ . But they were thoughts. They were just  _ thoughts _ . And thoughts couldn’t hurt him.

(Or so he used to think, but he was naive then.)

The first time Tommy frayed the line of  _ maybe not okay _ , was one night when he was going out to collect wood. Wilbur (or Ghostbur, but— Tommy didn’t need more reminders that his older brother was dead) had stayed back at the camp, since Tommy had promised he’d be fine.

Which he  _ would  _ have been fine, if it wasn’t for the sudden weight that fell on him after the seventh fucking spider attacked him. Spiders were annoying (kind of like Tommy). His sword swayed by his side and for a moment he just—  _ paused _ .

The spider was closing in, hissing violently. Tommy should have raised his sword, should have brought up his shield. But he just… didn’t care. For a split second, a strange thought rang through his head.

_ What if I just let it kill me _ .

He didn’t know where the fuck it came from, because he’d never even thought of something like that before. Tommy wasn’t messed up, he didn’t have mental issues, he wasn’t depressed! Tommy was  _ fine _ .

But after putting in one last final effort to kill the spider and running back home, Tommy found himself incapable of forgetting that thought. He was laying in bed, staring up at the dirt ceiling, quickly slipping down a dark spiral of  _ what if I just let it kill me _ .

And it was dumb, really. Because why would Tommy want to die?

_ Because everyone hates you. _

_ Because you’re annoying. _

_ Because your best friend exiled you. _

Tommy sighed, rolling over under the sheets. It was cold, but under the duvet it was boiling hot. He didn’t have the effort to throw it off.

He was fine, really he was fine.

Until it happened a second time.

It was morning time, and Tommy was fishing. Wilbur sat beside him, his grey skin shimmering translucently in the waking sun. Sometimes, when the light hit him just right, he would sparkle like a diamond. Tommy made fun of his brother for it, but some part of him secretly hated the reminder that Wilbur was no longer human. No longer alive.

His legs swung back and forth as he looked down at the fishing line in his hand, thoughts wandering in the silence. And then, for a split moment, Tommy’s imagination took control.

_ A blade in his hand, swiping deeply across wrists (effortlessly, despite Tommy knowing he’d have to push harder to break skin). Blood pouring down. No pain (why was there no pain?). Foggy head, hazy eyes and then— _

“Tommy?”

Wilbur’s voice cut through Tommy’s thoughts harshly, making him reer back abruptly. He looked to Wilbur, before looking back down at his wrists. They were bare and clean and pale and not scared by anything self-inflicted.

_ What the fuck was that _ ?

“You kind of… started hyperventilating there,” the older man explained, tilting his head. “You okay?”

Tommy forced out a laugh. “Just peachy, Big Man. Just peachy.”

Wilbur didn’t seem convinced, but nodded and turned back to the sea. 

The younger boy shuddered, suddenly struck by what had just happened. He’d just imagined slitting his wrists. What the—  _ why _ ? It had been so vivid, so  _ clear _ . As if it was really happening. 

Why would he think of that?

_ Because you ruin everything. _

_ Because you’re selfish. _

_ Because nobody loves you. _

“What’s it like to be dead?” 

The question came out of nowhere and really it was  _ super _ personal and he shouldn’t ask those types of questions—

“I don’t really know,” Wilbur answered after a moment. “I don’t remember what it was like to be alive so I don’t have much to… compare it with.”

Tommy looked to him in surprise. “Do you reckon you’re happier?”

Wilbur swallowed, his phantom flickering for a moment before returning. “I… think I am? I know I was very angry when I was alive, and people like me much more now, so… I think it’s better for me being a ghost than alive. But that isn’t the same for everyone. Some people are already good when they’re alive, so they should stay that way. I think I was going down a bad path. I don’t remember, but… the memories I  _ do _ have were all happy ones and those became far and few between closer to my death.”

Tommy frowned, looking down to his feet which swung back and forth. 

“Do you think people will like me better when I’m dead?”

Wilbur swung his head towards him, lips parted in shock. His eyes flickered strangely for a moment, before he chuckled awkwardly. “Of course not Tommy, everyone loves you alive. Why be a ghost when you don’t have anything to run from?”

_ I have a lot to run from _ , he thought bitterly. Silence stretched out across the two, both brothers getting lost in their thoughts.

Tommy startled when something tugged on his fishing line. “I got something!” he exclaimed.

Wilbur looked over to him, watching as he pulled in a large cod fish. Tommy was glad for the distraction and held the fish like it was a trophy.

“I’m the best!”

The lie tasted bitter in his mouth.

_ ( Later that night, Tommy woke up with a gasp. In his dream — or nightmare — he’d been falling from a tall cliff. And he’d been the one to jump. ) _

Tommy was down in a cave one day, a torch held tightly in one hand so that he could see in the dark. An iron axe was in the other hand, preparing to attack any mobs who dared to come closer.

At some point, he was overrun by a large group of zombies and was forced to trap himself in the stone wall of the cave. Tommy sighed, sliding down the wall until he was seated with his back against it. 

The single torch was held in front of his face, flame dancing in the reflection of his blue eyes. His mind was foggy, which may have provided reasoning for why he suddenly hovered his palm over the open flame.

At first, there was nothing. But then his hand moved closer and a stinging pain bloomed in the centre of his palm. Despite the burning, Tommy didn’t move his hand away until his skin started blistering and hissing.

He breathed out, eyes wide as he stared at the damage he’d done to his hand. There was a large burn on his left palm, which was blistered and red and  _ angry _ . His skin looked almost wet. And the pain struck him with  _ vengeance _ . It burned and stung and hissed, and Tommy had never wanted a cool bucket of water so badly in his life.

Tears pooled in his eyes as he struggled to control his breathing. He pressed his head back against the wall, closing his eyes to try and ignore the pain in his hand.

Because he was fine, really. There was nothing wrong with a bit of curiosity.

The wound was bandaged when he got back to Wilbur and his base, and the older man didn’t question where the burn had come from.

Technoblade came by at some point, laughing about Tommy’s situation and mocking him. Tommy was tired. He thought his eldest brother may understand.

“Fuck,” Techno breathed out with a laugh. “This is just— it’s so funny. Maybe if I killed you then you’d just be two ghosts camping out here—”

“Then kill me, Technoblade.”

Tommy’s voice was dull and low and empty and he honestly didn’t remember when it had lost its bright enthusiasm. Maybe after the first time he’d contemplated killing himself. Or the second. Or the third.

“What?” Techno laughed, his skull mask shaking with his shoulders (and it was weird that he was wearing it, because usually he only wore it in battle). “Don’t tempt me.”

“I’m serious,” said Tommy, dropping his pickaxe and showing his bare hands.

He pulled at the hatches of his chestplate and shin armour, tugging the iron off. Technoblade watched him with careful eyes, his laughing having stopped. 

“Kill me.”

“Tommy, put your fucking armour back on,” Techno ordered, his voice void of any humor it once had.

“Why? I’m making it easy for you. Come on, just kill me,” replied Tommy, stepping forward.

Technoblade stepped back in unison, wearily looking around the pair. “Tommy, stop joking around. Just… put the goddamn armour back on.”

“Kill me!” Tommy yelled this time, grabbing the blade of Techno’s shimmering diamond sword to angle it towards his stomach.

The hybrid’s ruby eyes blew wide in shock, lips parting underneath the skull mask. He tried pulling the sword back, but Tommy gripped it tighter until blood dripped from his fingers. 

“Tommy,  _ stop _ ,” Techno insisted.

The man finally gave a final tug to his sword, making it fall out of Tommy’s hands. The blonde boy hissed as his palms were cut, but still managed to hold his glare. Warm blood dripped from his fingers, staining the stone he was mining through. 

“You’re a fucking coward,” Tommy scowled before picking up his pickaxe again and going back to work. His grip was slippery on the worn down leather handle, but he grit his teeth and ignored the uncomfortable feeling of his wound rubbing against fabric.

He didn’t notice Technoblade’s frozen figure behind him, lips parting as shaky breaths broke through. The older brother wanted to speak up, wanted to ask  _ what the fuck happened to you, Tommy _ , but he closed his mouth and settled with a deep sigh.

_ Tommy was fine, he always was _ .

Until he was standing by the Nether portal back to L’Manburg, watching as Sapnap, Wilbur and Dream all disappeared into a blur of purple swirls. He could hear their voices ringing out through the shared com line, bubbling with excitement.

Because of that _goddamn_ _Christmas tree_.

And Tommy couldn’t even fucking see it, because it was in L’Manburg and Tommy couldn’t go to L’Manburg.

He’d never felt so alone before.

Nowadays, not even Wilbur stuck around much. He didn’t even know Tommy was exiled, he thought they were on a holiday for heaven’s sake! It was Wilbur’s damn fault he was in this mess in the first place.

Wilbur’s fault and Techno’s fault and Dream’s fault and Shlatt’s fault and… Tubbo’s fault.

_ Right _ ?

It was  _ their _ fault, not Tommy’s. It wasn’t Tommy’s…

_ It’s all your fault. _

But that can’t be right. It can’t be. Tommy was just defending himself, defending his friends, defending his family, defending his country. He wasn’t selfish, he  _ wasn’t _ .

(  _ “Selfish,” Tubbo spat, eyes darker than Tommy had ever seen before and hands curled into fists by his side. Tommy turned back to his friend, his brother, words caught in his throat.  _ )

All along it had been for everyone else. The only thing he’d fought for on his own behalf was his discs. It was always the discs.

(  _ “The dics don’t matter, Tommy!” _ )

But couldn’t Tubbo see? The discs weren’t important because they played music, they were important because they symbolised everything Tommy ever cared about. They were him and Tubbo’s friendship, they were his memories with Techno and Wilbur, they were the feeling of being wrapped in Phil’s wings, they were the smell of Nikki’s bakery, the sound of Dream’s old laugh.

The discs were… they were what made Tommy  _ Tommy _ .

He’d never been good with coming to terms with things like love or affection, let alone actually  _ expressing it _ . So the discs were a way of… symbolising it. Making it real in a way that wasn’t  _ embarrassing _ or  _ overwhelming _ .

And when Tubbo said —

_ “The discs don’t matter, Tommy!” _

All Tommy could hear was —

_ “We don’t matter, Tommy! You don’t matter to  _ **_anyone_ ** _!” _

And maybe that was… what Tubbo had meant when he’d said that. Maybe he was sick of Tommy, maybe he just wanted to make him know that he never really mattered. Their friendship never mattered.

Because Tommy was  _ selfish _ .

His breath was caught choppily in his throat, mouth wet with salty tears. He hadn’t noticed himself stepping closer to the edge, the toe of his shoes tipping slightly over the lip of the bridge.

Warm air rose upwards, making his skin bubble with sweat. The bandage around his hand felt itchy from the humidity, and Tommy clenched his fist to get rid of the discomfort. His hair was oily and damp, matting down to his forehead.

As his dull blue eyes trailed over the bubbling lava, stinging from the heat, Tommy couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of comfort.

His mind drifted back to that moment in the cave, his hand raised over the open flame.

It hadn’t hurt at first. The heat, that was.

It hadn’t burnt in those first seconds.

Maybe this would be the same. If he were to just… jump.

He was selfish, right? So maybe he could do this  _ one _ last selfish thing. For once, it would be for himself and not for anyone else.

It wasn’t like anyone would really miss him.

Tubbo would maybe mourn for a bit, but he’d be okay after a few days. Dream would be so happy to finally get rid of him. Techno would laugh. Ghostbur probably wouldn’t even realise. Phil might  _ finally _ notice him for once. The others would… move on quickly enough. Maybe Ranboo would care. Maybe Nikki and Fundy and Big Q would care.

Just one step and it would all be over.

Wilbur looked happy in death, anyway. People liked him better that way (Tommy didn’t). Maybe they’d like… GhostInnit more than TommyInnit.

He choked on another breath, left foot sliding forward until it hovered over open air. His head seemed fuzzy, absent of all sense of objectivity or logic. All he could think was  _ it will be better this way _ .

He needed an out. He needed to be free. Everything was just too much and  _ god _ he was tired. He was  _ so so _ tired of being alive. It was exhausting having to think and move and eat and sleep and walk.

Tommy’s knee bent slightly, preparing to hop just that final bit over when—

“ _ Tommy! _ ”

The vision of an orange coloured ocean blurred into grey cobblestone as Tommy was knocked off his feet and pulled back from the edge. His shoulder slammed into the hard ground, bones shuddering due to the lack of fat to insulate the impact.

Everything was hazy and  _ oh god, did he really just blow his chance? _

“Tommy, what the fuck?”

It was Dream.

He could recognise that voice from anywhere nowadays. It was Dream, who sounded concerned, and worried and… scared?

No, that wasn’t right. Dream didn’t get scared.

“I’m tired…” Tommy slurred out, his head still overwhelmingly foggy and throat still clogged with mucus. Tears dripped from his chin, wetting his collarbones and the neckline of his shirt.

He was pulled back to lean against Dream’s chest, green-clad arms wrapping around his chest protectively. He could feel breathing behind him, the rise and fall of a ribcage. And there was a… heartbeat.

“I know you’re tired,” said Dream, gloved hands circling thin wrists. “Do you want to… talk about this? Why would you… why…”

Tommy thought about it (well, tried), but it was too hard and he really couldn’t figure out a way to explain  _ everything _ going on in his head simply. Besides, he would just annoy Dream with his complaining.

“I’m tired,” he repeated simply, because that was the only way to explain it really.

He was tired, and the only way to rest was to die.

“Okay,” replied Dream. “Let’s go home then, yeah? Tommy?”

“L’Manburg?” the younger blonde questioned, eyes suddenly alight with something akin to childish hope.

Dream sighed, pulling Tommy up with him and gripping one of his hands in his. The action was probably a precaution so that Tommy didn’t go throw himself off the bridge, but the feeling of a warm-blooded human beside him offered a small amount of comfort.

“No, Tommy. You can’t go back yet. We’re going to Logstedshire. Remember?”

A familiar greyness returned, and suddenly Tommy regretted not jumping sooner. “Yeah, I remember.”

Once they returned to Logstedshire, Dream pulled out a sleeping bag to lay next to Tommy’s bashed up bed. The younger blonde furrowed his brows, tilted his head in confusion.

“Do you want to blow up my bed too? Am I… supposed to sleep on that now?” he asked.

Dream was frozen, but Tommy imagined a flicker of emotions passing under that stupid smiley face mask. The green-clad man shook his head, pulling off his diamond-heel combat boots and loosening the buckles of his armour.

“I’m staying here for the night, just to…”

Dream didn’t finish the sentence but Tommy knew what he was going to say anyway. 

_ Just to make sure you don’t off yourself the second I turn my back _ .

It wasn’t like it made a difference. If Tommy really wanted to, he could go out while Dream was sleeping and hop through the Nether portal to do what he didn’t do before.

But the idea of someone being there, being with him even in his shitty little tent, just because they were worried about him… it helped, somewhat.

For the first time in a long time, a small genuine smile pulled at his lips. It wasn’t anything close to what it had looked like before, but it was a start.

Maybe for just this once, Tommy was allowed to be selfish.

Dream didn’t leave Logstedshire for the next four days, and Tommy quickly became accustomed to seeing the smiley face mask around. The older man helped him make a chest room and also brought obsidian to build the bridge in the Nether. He’d even stopped blowing up his armour, which was great since Tommy was really running low on iron.

On the fifth day, Tommy woke up to silence. 

No music from the jukebox, no sound of trees being cut down, no crackle of the campfire. Dream never went mining without telling Tommy beforehand, and he was always within shouting distance if Tommy hadn’t woken up yet.

But it was silent, and Dream wasn’t  _ anywhere _ .

Tommy looked around his tent, trying to find anything that might explain  _ where Dream went _ when suddenly he saw a piece of crumpled paper on top of his Ender Chest.

He breathed, trying to calm his frayed nerves as he picked up the paper to read.

_ ‘Tommy, _

_ Sorry for not being there when you wake up, but something just came up. It was urgent, and I honestly wasn’t expecting it to happen so soon. Someone just arrived in Manburg who I have to see. _

_ I wouldn’t leave you if it wasn’t urgent. _

_ There’s rabbit stew in the chest. Don’t go too far and DON’T GO TO THE NETHER. I’ll be able to see, remember? _

_ Be back soon, _

_ Dream’ _

Tommy frowned at the page, reading it over thrice for no apparent reason.

_ ‘I wouldn’t leave you if it wasn’t urgent’. _

Anything was urgent in comparison to Tommy. Hell, the cows breaking out of the field would be  _ ‘urgent’ _ compared to Tommy. Because he didn’t matter. He never really did.

And it  _ sucked _ , because Tommy had actually been having some pretty great days. He hadn't thought about killing himself as much. And he’d only purposely gotten attacked by a mob twice. He was doing good, in comparison to before Dream stayed everyday.

But apparently that progress didn’t matter because he was  _ back _ into that spiral of—

_ You’re not worth it. _

_ Nothing matters. _

_ Nobody cared. _

_ You’re annoying. _

_ Everything is ruined by you. _

_ Selfish. _

_ Selfish. _

**_Selfish._ **

He couldn’t go to the Nether this time, because Dream really  _ would _ know with his Admin abilities. Apparently Dream had coded an alert into his chat system for whenever Tommy went into the Nether, which was a tad bit overboard but whatever.

So death by lava was off the table, which sucked because Tommy didn’t really like any of the other options.

Anything involving suffocation was a big  _ no no _ . He didn’t really want to get killed by mobs because  _ lame _ . And stabbing himself or bleeding out was just… not instant enough. Dream had thrown out all the spider eyes and pufferfish, so that was out of the question.

The last option was death by falling.

Not ideal in any way, because Dream will have an awful mess to clean up, but it would get the job down.

Tommy walked over to his dump chest, placing all the stacks of dirt and cobblestone he could into his inventory. Once he thought he had a good enough amount, he headed over to the small hill where he had been planning to make his cobblestone tower.

Maybe this will be a knock-off version of the one back at L’Manburg.

With a clouded mind, he began towering up the dirt and stone blocks. It was tiring, and the air became quite thin once he was high enough, but eventually he ran out of blocks to stack.

Tommy exhaled, shoulders slumping as he sat down on the edge of his tower. 

This was a dumb idea.

_ No, it’s a great idea. Remember, the only way to not be tired is to die.  _

I don’t want to be tired forever. I also don’t want to be dead. I don’t want to forget everything.

_ Why? Everyone else will forget you as well. You’ll see once you jump. _

The battle in his head only made him more tired and his head more foggy. He didn’t know which voice was the  _ real _ Tommy (what did that even mean anymore?). He wanted to be young again, chasing bees with Tommy and sparring with Techno. Baking with Wilbur and getting flown up higher than the clouds by Phil.

_ God _ , he wanted to go back.

And the only way to do that was to forget. To die.

Without letting himself dwell on it any longer than he already had, Tommy stepped off the ledge.

As the world blurred past in a smear of blues and greens and whites, his mind spun back to the memories he really hoped he wouldn’t forget in death.

_ Tubbo sat beside him on the bench, the jukebox playing in the background as the two reminisced on the things they’d just gone through. The sun was settling slowly in the distance, orange and pink disappearing into the horizon. _

_ - _

_ “What’s your name, buddy?” the man with wings asked, kneeling down to Tommy’s height. “I’m Phil.” _

_ The young boy frowned, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest. “I’m not allowed to talk to strangers,” he huffed, looking away. After a second, he glanced back to the man who was smiling lightly. “Fine, my name’s Tommy.” _

_ - _

_ Techno was sitting on the floor, his back to the couch Tommy was sitting on. The eight year old fiddled with the pink strands in his hands, twisting them into an intricate braid that he’d learnt recently. The piglin hybrid raised a palm full of little flowers so that Tommy could intertwine them with the braid, his tongue poking between his lips as he concentrated. _

_ “You need to grow your hair out really, really long so that I can braid it even more,” Tommy explained. _

_ Techno huffed humorously. “But the long hair’s annoying, it gets everywhere.” _

_ “Not if I’m always around to braid it.” _

_ - _

_ “Welcome to the Dream SMP, TommyInnit!” the green-clad man exclaimed happily, patting his back as he showed him to the community house. _

_ - _

_ “YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Wilbur yelled, a pen and book in hand. “SUCK IT GREEN BOYYYYYY!” _

_ The L’Manburg citizens cracked up laughing, Tommy’s the loudest amongst them. _

_ - _

_ The boat rocked as Tubbo swung back and forth, making Tommy screech. _

_ “Tubbo, I swear to god. If I drown out here because you’re shit at paddling—” _

_ His rant was cut off when the boat suddenly capsized, sending the pair into the freezing cold water. Tubbo’s laughter could barely be heard over Tommy’s panicked screeches. _

_ - _

_ “Tommy isn’t selfish, Tubbo,” said Ranboo, his eyebrows narrowed in accusation. _

_ - _

_ “Here.”  _

_ Techno bent down, picking up a small yellow flower off the ground and passing it over to Tommy who stared wearily. _

_ “It’s a dandelion,” Techno informed. “Because you’re a little lion.” _

_ Tommy hid his happy smile behind a snarl.  _

_ “I’m not little!” he cried out, chasing after Techno when the hybrid ran off laughing. _

_ - _

_ “Wait, it’s raining,” Dream commented, looking up to the dark clouds above them. _

_ “Yes,” Tommy deadpanned. “Fantastic observation.” _

_ Dream laughed, pulling something out of his inventory. “No. It’s raining. You can use this!” _

_ Tommy’s eyes widened at the sight of the trident, hand already reaching out to grab it. _

_ “Oh you are never getting this back, Dreamy boy!” _

_ - _

_ Wilbur’s melodic voice was singing in the background as Tommy, Techno and Phil all roasted their marshmallows. The piglin hybrid was waiting for his to burn completely and Tommy soon made a challenge to see who could eat the most burnt one. _

_ Phil had tried to stop them when they started battling with their marshmallow sticks, but it didn’t really help when Wilbur was suddenly pulled into the fight. _

_ - _

_ “No matter what happens, it’s you and I, Big Man.” _

_ - _

_ “Dad?” Tommy whispers, eyes wide in the darkness of Phil’s bedroom. _

_ He pushed at the edge of the duvet, shuffling onto the mattress which was awfully high for such a small boy. _

_ “Hm? Tommy, what’s up?” Phil asked, checking the clock beside his bed before rubbing his tired eyes. He allowed Tommy to climb into bed next to him, encompassing the blonde boy in a large pale grey wing. _

_ Blue eyes blinked owlishly from behind tear-drenched eyelashes. “I had a nightmare, dad. Y-you all left. I couldn’t find you anywhere.” _

_ Phil frowned, holding his son closer to his side. “Well I’m right here, okay, sweetheart. Wil and Techno are sleeping and we’re not going anywhere. We won’t ever leave you, okay? Never.” _

-

“TOMMY!”

━━━━━━━━

“Remind me again why you didn’t tell me of this sooner?” Phil asked.

The white primary feathers of his wings tickled the skin of his ankles as he followed Dream down the Nether bridge. The thick fabric of his Antarctic Empire uniform was difficult to bear in the heat of the burning underworld, and the fur neck itched against his sweaty neck.

He wondered how Techno could act completely normal, like he wasn’t burning up. But perhaps it was the piglin blood in his son which made him more accustomed to the heat.

“I didn’t realise it was this bad,” the green-clad man answered, running a hand through dirty blonde hair. “As soon as…  _ it _ happened, I sent a letter straight away.”

“You could have explained a bit in the letter, y’know. I was worried out of my mind,” the older man continued, frowning at the thin wooden plank which had been haphazardly thrown over the broken bridge. 

Techno grunted from behind him. “I hadn’t seen Phil like that in a while. He usually doesn’t let his emotions show, especially in front of me, Wilbur and Tommy.”

Phil offered his eldest son a small glare. 

“You definitely made an effort to come quickly,” Dream replied. “I thought you’d be another two days. Not to say I’m complaining.”

There was a moment of silence as Phil eyed the ocean of lava below them.

“How is he? Be honest with me, Dream.”

The admin paused momentarily, offering a small glance back towards Phil and Techno before sighing. 

“He’s… alive.”

Techno frowned. “I didn’t realise that being alive was the standard nowadays.”

“Considering everything… for Tommy, it is the standard,” said Dream, fist clenching around the leather handle of his axe.

Phil suddenly came to a halt, hand reaching out to snatch around Dream’s wrist and pull him back to face him. His cornflower blue eyes narrowed as he faced down the smiley face mask.

“What  _ exactly _ does that mean, Dream?”

The taller man sighed, and Phil gripped his wrist tighter.

“You said he’d be  _ safe _ ! You said my son would be  _ okay _ ! That was the only condition of me letting this- this whole exile thing happen!” Phil exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “I knew he was lonely, but I thought at least he was safe. You said this would be good for him. What… what  _ changed _ ?”

“Phil—”

“What happened to my  _ son _ , goddamn it!”

Dream didn’t answer, didn’t even move an inch. Phil had never hated that stupid mask as much as he did in that moment. He wanted to rip it off, to stare into the eyes of the man who  _ hurt his son _ —

“Dad,” Techno spoke quietly from behind him, a hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

The older man’s glare softened, hand lowering from where it had been pointing accusingly at Dream. He sighed, shoulders slumping.

“Just let me see him. Please,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Dream was still for a moment before he nodded slowly, spinning on his heel to continue down the bridge. Techno stuck to Phil’s side for the rest of the walk, stepping into the portal frame together after Dream.

And nothing could have ever prepared Phil for the sight on the other side.

The first thing he noticed after the purple swirls cleared from his disorientated eyes was the shouting. Dream was running and there was a gasp from Techno and—

“TOMMY!” Dream yelled, running as fast as he could towards the strange tower which had been built atop a hill.

Phil frowned, wondering why Dream was shouting, when his eyes lifted towards the clouds and  _ huh, was that a bird falling down— _

But no. It wasn't a goddamn bird, Phil realised with chilling horror. It was Tommy, his  _ son _ , falling from the thin tower which had clearly been built by him if the copious amount of cobblestone was anything to go by.

Phil didn’t even take the time to think of why Tommy was suddenly falling off a tower, instead making one large swoop of his wings to lift himself off the floor. Wind blew his bucket hat off as he rose higher and higher into the sky, trying to meet Tommy halfway up the tower.

Words flickered through Phil’s mind quickly, as an awful sense of realisation settled over.

_ “He’s… alive.” _

_ “I didn’t realise that being alive was the standard nowadays.” _

_ “Considering everything… for Tommy, it is the standard.” _

Oh.

His son was falling, he was rising and then suddenly—

_ Thump _ .

A body landed roughly in his arms, causing his flight to falter and wings to shudder with the weight. He used the momentum to carry them down to the grass below, to where Dream and Techno stood in shock.

But he couldn’t care, because Tommy had  _ jumped _ . His son had jumped on purpose, and that’s why Dream saw Tommy being alive as ‘good enough’. Because Tommy was actively trying  _ not _ to be alive, he was—

“You’re okay,” Phil whispered into greasy blonde hair.

The sixteen-year-old’s body was cradled tightly in his arms, shuddering as Phil mumbled sweet nothings to sooth him. Tommy was too light, he was too pale, he was too skinny, but he was  _ alive _ .

“You’re alright, we’re alright. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, remember? I won’t ever leave you again.”

Tommy shook in his arms, head turning to bury into the fur neck of Phil’s uniform. He could feel tears wetting his neck and hands clutch as his jacket.

“Wh-why did y-you c-catch-catch me?” the young boy forced out through choked breaths and cries.

It took all the will-power in Phil to not behind crying himself. “Because you’re my son, Tommy. I’m always going to be here for you.”

“Y-you weren’t- weren’t before,” Tommy sniffled. 

Phil didn’t even notice Techno and Dream run up to them, crouching beside them.

“That was my fault, Toms,” said Dream. “I-I was the one who made Tubbo exile you. I manipulated you, I lied—”

“You  _ what _ ?” Techno growled, already summoning his sword and preparing to swing.

“No!” Tommy called out, lifting himself from Phil’s grasp. The two warriors turned their heads in surprise. “Please d-don’t fight. It was my fault a-anyway.”

Dream and Techno shared a look before their weapons glowed and disappeared from view. The pair crouched down to Tommy’s side.

“Tommy, none of this was your fault. You’re a kid who was forced into a war—  _ two wars _ . And then your best friend exiled you and—  _ fuck _ , I should have never had you exiled to begin with,” Dream shook his head. “It was over George’s fucking  _ house _ , for heaven’s sake! It doesn’t even matter but—”

“Dream,” Tommy hiccuped. The smiley face mask snapped down to him. “I don’t blame you. Just like I don’t blame Wil or Techno or Tubbo or  _ anyone _ . I’m tired of holding grudges. I’m tired of telling myself I shouldn’t care for someone. I… I’m just tired.”

“I know, Tommy. I know.”

It was only a second before Dream was pulling his mask off from over his face and throwing his arms around the smaller boy. Tommy melted into the embrace, despite the awkward positioning of them both being on the ground.

When the two finally pulled away, Tommy’s eyes widened at the sight of something he thought he’d never get the honor of seeing.

Dream’s face was… well, a face.

His skin was sunkissed and burnt under the eyes with a smattering of freckles all over. He was scarred all over, with the most prominent ones stretching across the bridge of his nose and the other running through his left brow and eye. His irises sparkled an impossibly vibrant green, with specks of gold visible considering how close Tommy was sitting. It all matched with his floppy dirty blonde hair and horrifyingly chapped lips.

“I always knew you were ugly, Big Man,” Tommy spoke, the tiniest of smiles pulling at his lips when Dream erupted into a familiar laugh.

Even his smile was disgustingly attractive, with all those white sparkling teeth and the single dimple on the right side.

Suddenly there was a hand gripping the scruff of his neck, pulling him upwards from off the floor and into a pair of large arms. Tommy squawked in protest, before noticing the light pink hair that draped over the person’s shoulders.

_ Technoblade _ .

“Don’t you ever do something like that again, Tommy, or else I’ll kill you,” Techno glowled out roughly.

Tommy ignored the obvious flaw in his threat, instead reciprocating the hug and burying his face into the fur neck of Techno’s cape.

“I can’t make any promises, Techno,” he whispered.

Techno sighed. “I know, little lion. That’s why you’ll be coming to stay with Phil and I, so we can protect you until you can take care of yourself. We won’t be leaving you again.”

“Do you promise?”

A hand rested on Tommy’s shoulder, clothed in fingerless gloves. Dream.

Large pale grey wings stretched around the pair of brothers. Phil.

“I promise.”


End file.
